A Golden Thread
by CupcakeGal
Summary: They were more alike than she had ever imagined. A post-Season 1 Emma and Charming snapshot in honour of Father's Day.


**A Golden Thread**

Summary: They are more alike than she had ever imagined.

A/N: In honour of Father's Day (though here in Australia we don't celebrate it til September) I present to you this little snapshot of Emma and Charming, post-Season 1. The title of this story comes from the following quote by John Gregory Brown:

_There's something like a line of gold thread running through a man's words when he talks to his daughter, and gradually over the years it gets to be long enough for you to pick up in your hands and weave into a cloth that feels like love itself._

Dedication: To my own father, who has never let anything, not even cancer, prevent him from always being there for me...love you Dad!

* * *

_I'm pathetic._

Emma sighed, pulling her leather jacket tighter to try and ward off the chill of a typical Maine night as sounds of raucous conversation from the party below drifted up to her ears.

_I have a house full of people who apparently care about me and I'm hiding up here like a scared little child._

In truth, that was exactly what she felt like. Emma knew the newly awoken inhabitants of Storybrooke meant well, but the utter enthusiasm and faith they bestowed upon her in her role as 'saviour' was unnerving to someone for whom solitude was their default state of being.

The party, held at Kathr...no, _Abigail's_ house was not meant solely for her (ostensibly it was the first chance the group of reunited friends had had to relax for even a small amount of time amidst the lingering threats of Regina and Rumplestiltskin) but after the twentieth person had approached, eager for a few moments with the woman who had saved them, Emma had made her escape. Having promised Henry she wouldn't leave the party her options to find some peace had been limited and she'd ended up perched on the roof, looking out over the deceptively quiet town.

"Henry told me I might find you up here."

The sudden intrusion into her thoughts caused Emma to jerk her head up, body slipping precariously close to the edge of the roof before strong hands reached out to steady her, their warmth seeping through her coat to settle into her bones. Uncomfortable with the feelings of safety the contact produced, she shrugged off the hands and craned her neck up to look into the vivid blue eyes of her rescuer.

"Thanks."

"No problem," Dav...Jame...her _father _replied, before pulling two bottles out of his jacket and offering one to her with a small smile, "Beer?"

"God yes," she blurted, taking the bottle and wasting no time in opening it to swallow down a large gulp of the amber liquid. Wiping her mouth, she watched as James sat down beside her, eyes twinkling with amusement.

"I don't think I have seen anyone drink with that much enthusiasm since the barkeep at my local village tavern introduced a new variety of cheap ale," he commented, taking a small sip of his own, "Or on second thought, Grumpy at our wedding reception after being accosted by some over-eager children."

The unspoken question hung between them, one which Emma merely offered a sheepish smile to in response. Both sat silently for a few moments, eyes raised to the star-filled sky above. Below, a large outburst of laughter disturbed the night air, Henry's youthful giggles and Mar...Snow's silvery chuckles distinguishable amongst the din.

Dropping her gaze, Emma glanced at James out of the side of her eye. In the few weeks since her entire world view had shifted on its axis she had not spent much time alone with her father, who had been seemingly content to let Snow take the lead. What she had observed though was a man whose sense of authority and self-belief was a complete one-eighty from the sweet yet indecisive David. About the only thing the two men had in common was an absolute devotion to Mary/Snow which coloured every one of their actions in a way which made Emma just the slightest bit envious.

That same devotion had also shown up in his newly minted close relationship with Henry, a relationship which had given her son a much-needed and beloved male role model to compete with all the strong females in his life. She often found the two in deep conversation, Henry's eyes lit with excitement at having the full attention of his new-found grandfather. If she was honest with herself, the current state of her relationship with James when held up against those he had with the other members of their strange little family engendered unfamiliar feelings of jealousy...feelings which prompted her to let out a deep breath and begin to speak.

"I'm not sure I can do this."

"Do what?" James questioned softly, his piercing gaze now resting solely on her.

Emma waved the beer bottle in the air mockingly.

"All of this, be the saviour which everyone in this town wants me to be. I never asked for any of this, all I wanted was to make sure Henry was safe, loved and now after one little kiss..."

"And a dragon slaying," James interjected.

"And a dragon slaying, they expect me to have all the answers when apparently my only qualification is being the product of a fairytale romance...literally!"

Outburst finished, she took another large swig of beer as if it could wash away all of the conflicting emotions within her. Silence stretched for a moment and she wondered whether she had somehow offended James before he placed his own beer bottle down and tucked his hands into his pockets.

"I never wanted to be prince," he started, eyes looking out over Storybrooke, "Even when I was a child, the highest my imagination strived for was perhaps a knight and that was just a fleeting phase. When Rumplestiltskin offered the opportunity, the only reason I agreed was to save our farm and ensure my mother's future."

He stopped to gauge her reaction, and finding that she was intently listening to his every word he continued.

"It was relatively easy in the beginning, the King made sure I knew exactly what was expected of me and I was merely playing a part. It wasn't until after I had met Snow and we'd finally reached the point of becoming engaged that the doubts crept in. She wanted to take back our kingdoms, and I was terrified."

He blew out a deep breath, "I had been a prince for all of a few months and if we were successful, I now would be responsible for running a kingdom and protecting its people. I felt woefully inadequate and certain that I would fail those relying on me, your mother especially."

His last words could have been hers, as they so accurately mirrored the emotions she had buried behind her well-worn veneer of confidence.

"How did you overcome that?" Emma asked, fingers picking restlessly at the paper label on the bottle.

"Faith," James replied simply and so strongly that she couldn't help but raise her gaze to search his.

"Snow reminded me that I had to have faith in myself, in what I had accomplished so far and also in her, and our friends. If I maintained my faith in them, I would never have to shoulder the burden of expectations alone," he elaborated.

James then withdrew one of his hands from his pocket and tentatively brought it up to her face to cradle her cheek gently in his palm. It was the first true physical contact they'd had since the desperate hug he'd engulfed her in during the earliest moments of their reunion and the feelings of comfort it created caused blossoming warmth within her heavily-guarded heart.

"You may be the saviour but you do not have to face the battle to come alone. The knowledge of what you had to endure because of our decision to save you from the curse breaks my heart but I am so very proud of everything you have accomplished despite the hardships you have suffered. And know this...from this point on, I will do everything in my power to ensure you will never have to be alone again, "he paused, eyes glistening with emotion, "I love you Emma."

Emma couldn't help it; tears welled up and spilled down her cheeks at the absolute and unconditional love and pride she could see staring back at her. Choking them down, she reached over and wrapped her father in a hug to express everything she could not quite yet say. Words reciprocating his expression of love were something she did not yet have the courage or emotional fortitude to say but there was one word...one word she could utter which encompassed all.

"Thank you..._Dad_."


End file.
